


Private Screening

by Owlship



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bumblebee is a living vibrator change my mind, Caught in the Act, Charlie Lives With The Autobots, Established Relationship, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Robot/Human Relationships, Sexual Interfacing, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 00:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18487444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlship/pseuds/Owlship
Summary: No one else had stayed for the second movie, so Bumblebee feels fairly confident in their privacy as he boldly lets his digits roam over Charlie's body in the empty 'living room' area of the base's main room.





	Private Screening

**Author's Note:**

> Written to go with [Youkaiyume's delicious smutty art](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/595786)! Originally posted on [tumblr](http://v8roadworrier.tumblr.com/post/184191062036/youkaiyume-lemon-bee-and-charlie-getting)~

No one else had stayed for the second movie, so Bumblebee feels fairly confident in their privacy as he boldly lets his digits roam over Charlie's body in the empty 'living room' area of the base's main room.

She twists in her place on his lap to look up at him, her temperature already rising. "Bee, we're in the command center!" she says, but it doesn't sound as if she's really reprimanding him, more just stating the facts.

"We're _alone_ ," he says, dipping his head down to nuzzle the top of her head, her smooth hair tickling against his faceplate.

Charlie shifts in place indecisively, which really just feels like she's teasing him considering how close she's sitting to his spike housing. She stretches up and presses a kiss to his mouthpiece, and says, "If we get caught, this was _all_ your idea."

Bumblebee buzzes happily, spending an astrocycle to find the right clip of music- " _I'll take you places that you've never, never seen; If you start it up_."

She laughs, which is probably his favorite sound in the world, right next to the noises she makes when he gets her to overload, or the way she says his name with such love it humbles him.

He runs a digit under the front of her shirt, his sensitive tactile sensors almost overwhelmed by the organic warmth and softness of her body, just as he is every time. She sighs and leans back against him, spreading her legs as she goes.

He's not one to turn down the invitation and he places his other servo at the juncture of her thighs, rubbing a careful digit over her pants where her heat is concentrated.

"How about you?" she says, sneaking a hand down underneath her to his inguinal plating, rubbing the metal there.

Bumblebee shudders and feels his exhaust system kicking on, fans drawing away the excess heat he's sure to generate. He releases his spike slowly, savoring the way it brushes up against Charlie's behind as it emerges.

She lets out a breathy noise and wraps her small hands around his shaft, the angle undoubtedly awkward for her.

" _Feel my, my, my serpentine; Ooh, I want to hear you scream_ ," his radio plays, the volume turned down low in deference to their open location.

"Shh!" Charlie shushes, ruining it by moaning the next second when he has the servo between her legs start vibrating.

"Shit," she says, breath panting choppily already. "Let me get my jeans off, I want to feel you."

There's nothing Bumblebee can do to help the process along- his digits are simply too large to handle the tiny fastenings that secure her clothes. She strips off her boots, her pants, her underwear, tossing them all carelessly to the side.

Then she's bare against him, her port dripping wet with lubrication, gliding against the metal of his spike as she rocks her hips against him.

He loses control of his radio and static bursts out. Charlie leans up and grabs wildly in his direction; he realizes that she's reaching for his head, and he leans down to be within her range. She presses wet, open-mouthed kisses to his faceplate, fingers caressing the sensitive wires running along his neck.

" _Girls, rock your boys_ ," he plays, urging her on.

She breaks off her kissing and instead moves further down his body, so her hips are hovering over his aching spike. "I'd tease you," she says, her voice breathless, "But I want it too much." And with that she starts to sink down onto him, her valve hot and tight as she takes him inside.

Times like this Bumblebee can almost feel less than resentful for his missing voice box, because it means he can't shout and wake the whole base up. His systems buzz and rattle, spike vibrating, exhaust fans whirring in high gear.

"Ah!" Charlie gasps out, while inch by inch, his spike disappears inside of her.

He loves watching her fit him inside, her human body somehow resilient enough to not just survive interfacing with him but to revel in it, crave it. The bio-lights along his length pulse in tune with the throbbing of his Spark, not quite the same as the beat of her racing heart.

It's a miracle every time when she comes to a rest against his hips, the entire length of his spike sheathed inside of her valve. Bumblebee can't do anything but gaze at her in awe at this feat, digits running up and down the length of her spine.

She moans as she rocks her hips a little, adjusting to his size. When she's settled she looks over her shoulder at him and smiles, eyes lidded and face flushed.

"You feel so good," Charlie says, and then bites her lip as she starts moving back up his spike, drawing herself away before plunging back down.

His helm slams against the couch behind him at the sensation, radio dial spinning restless pulses of gibberish.

"God, Bee," she moans, working herself on his spike over and over, in and out of the wet heat of her valve.

He likes when he can see her face but the view isn't half bad this way either, her muscles flexing under her soft skin, flesh bouncing as she rocks against him. The servo not busy feeling the play of her organic structures as she rides him fists into the discarded blanket besides him, Bumblebee sure that if he doesn't anchor himself he'll fly right apart into a million pieces.

He almost shutters his optics against the sight of Charlie, sweaty and flushed and straining because it's too much, but he can't bring himself to cut off even an astrocycle of watching her.

"Turn up the vibrations," she says, "I think I can come like this tonight."

He leaps to obey, deepening and strengthening the vibrations that center in his spike until his whole chassis is rattling, drowning out the noise of his exhaust system, almost loud enough for him to lose the quiet slick noises of their interfacing.

She tosses her head back, hair swinging where it isn't clinging sweat-matted to her skin, hips snapping back and forth in small, torturous movements.

Bumblebee lets her work, digits reaching around her front to support her. She grabs a hold of one and grips tightly, using the contact point as leverage as she fucks herself.

He tries to tell her he's close to overloading, his spark thrumming in his chest, his processors flashing warnings at him, but he can't manage the radio.

Charlie calls out his name, louder than she ought to when they're in the middle of the base, and he feels her valve contracting in waves all around him. It's the end of him; he overloads in a rush, unable to stop himself from twitching his hips up so he's buried in her to the root, systems whiting out under the onslaught of pleasurable sensory information.

When Bumblebee comes back to himself she's draped over his chest plating, fingers tracing circles around the protrusion of a headlamp.

"We should have private movie nights more often," she says, before pressing her mouth against his mouthpiece in a tender kiss.

He buzzes his agreement, servos coming up to wrap around her body, holding her close.

"If you two are _quite_ done," Ratchet's voice calls out, and both he and Charlie jerk from surprise. "Bumblebee, you're disinfecting that whole area first thing tomorrow, and Charlie, I never want to see your bare aft in my command center _ever_ again."

She presses her head to his chest plating, as if to hide from Ratchet's ire.

"How did he _know_?" she says in a quiet voice, sounding stricken. "We were quiet!"

The security system, Bumblebee realizes in a rush of horror, optics widening as he looks down at her, and then up towards the ceiling where the discrete cameras are located. It had only been installed about a lunar cycle ago and he still hasn't gotten used to it being present, to the fact that the entire base, minus private berths, is under surveillance for protection against trespassers and the like.

"Now!" Ratchet calls.

Charlie scrambles away from Bumblebee, hurriedly dragging on her pants. "Let's go before he's really mad," she says as soon as she's dressed, and grabs at his servo to lead him away from the 'living room' back towards the bunk he's modified to share with her.

He can hear Ratchet grumbling about 'ridiculous Spark-struck younglings' as they practically run, but it's soon covered up with the sound of Charlie's laughter, ringing out bright and delighted as he picks her up the last few yards of hallway and carries her to their berth to see if she's ready for another round already.


End file.
